Most of the time when a year ends, I find myself feeling unusually contemplative and even a little melancholy. I tend to look at the previous 365 (or 366) days through a rose-colored lens that brightens the bright and tempers the not-so-bright into a muted shade that's easier to forget.
But I, like most people, am not particularly sad to see 2020 draw to a close.
It featured its blessings of course, like today's get-together with Adam's parents to exchange Christmas gifts, numerous coffee hang-outs with Kristine in the yard, an unplanned trip back to Maryland to help my mom (which let me see my brother's family and my girl Gretchen and Eileen and her kiddos), a pair of trips to St. Louis to visit Kathy, and lots (and lots and lots and lots) of time with the family that Adam and I have created. (Well, with as much of it as we can ever hang with in this lifetime, anyway. That's an ever-present dose of bittersweetness that flavors our existence.) And for the gift of watching our kids continue to grow; seeing Abby turn 16 and watching Brady enter the double-digits and gawking as Isaac grew and changed so much that I can scarcely believe he's still the same kid he was a year ago. And of course, we purchased and have love, love, loved our new house, where we have enough space to live and work together on a daily basis without driving each other batty. (And that, I tell you, is no small thing.)
But 2020 also reminded me --in an especially harsh way-- that this life is just a whisper of what's to come Some Day; that this is a broken down world filled with broken people who need grace and mercy and hope. So as 2021 begins and we draw ever closer to the arrival of Some Day, I'm grateful for the blessings that were hidden in the folds of a remarkably tough year, and for the promise of what will be.
No comments:
Post a Comment